I write, but….

I write but
Not compelled
Not awoken
Startled by the force
To feverishly pen
What flows
What bursts forward
To be read
I do not wake
The words caught
Under breathe
Recited like a
Newly wrought prayer
Its power still new
Still raw
Still strong in its conviction
To be heard…

a plea

a plea for pity

a soothing reprieve

a willingly wept prayer

a wretch’s last unsubtle cry for mercy

hopeless words half said, half breathed

a beckoning death knell

could not sound sweeter

and yet fate would not allow such ease

a desperate wail

scraped from within

feeble efforts to meekly appease

the undeniable truth of unease

ebb and return

Be my confidence

when the tide ebbs

speak through my anxiety

and remind me it will return again

maybe softly lapping at the shore

maybe thunderously crashing on the rocks

maybe only wanting to…meaning to…but just not getting the chance

maybe just trusting that i am its steady beacon and not some wayward flotsam

but assure me through the fluster

that the tide will return

however many times it may ebb

tested

i sought prayer

and found relief

from the testing

that i unbeknownst

was asking for

the more i prayed

away my tears

the more i uttered heartfully

the more i found reason

to utter still more beseechingly

for the mercy that had not reached its time to be received

voiced

i hear your voice

that off key humming

that soft yet deep toned

murmuring

that distinct chuckle

that sweet nothing filled echo

 

i strain to hear you

to make it real

to place it in my time

but just as always

you go silent

sensing you have

come too near

what keeps you away?

 
 

you know i await

that fated chance

not promised

no, not at all

but dreamt of

and longed for

but thought of

and prayed for

and kept

within my

wounded self

to give the

emptiness

some company